


Stopgap

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Ficlet, Intercrural Sex, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 13:31:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21339040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Gimli and Legolas face size issues.
Relationships: Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf
Comments: 23
Kudos: 368





	Stopgap

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

As soon as he deems them far enough away from their sleeping companions, Legolas backs Gimli up against the nearest tree and descends on Gimli’s open mouth. Gimli makes a muffled noise of surprise that’s quickly swallowed up in Legolas’ throat. He presses harder, fiercer, daring to nip at Gimli’s bottom lip and run his tongue along the inside. It’s a glorious relief after so many days and nights spent in an anxious spiral. Gimli’s lips are rougher than any elf’s Legolas has ever tasted, and his mustache tickles, his beard scratching Legolas’ chin, but in a way, those new details are thrilling. Legolas tangles his long fingers inside Gimli’s beard, wanting to savour every small sensation. 

Gimli kisses him back but mutters across his cheek, “This is foolish to do here—we’ll wake the others.”

“We must be silent then,” Legolas murmurs, unwilling to stop. There’s no where else to go, no privacy to be had, and there may well never be. He doesn’t want to wait any longer. Their connection has grown immensely, become stronger with every passing day, and if they were in the Woodland Realm, they would have shared a bed long ago. It’s the one need that hasn’t been met on their journey. It burns inside of Legolas, stirring each time he catches Gimli watching him, because he knows Gimli’s thinking the same. He never expected to feel such _fire_ for a dwarf, but he does, and he welcomes the thrill. He lets his eager hands roam down Gimli’s stout body, begrudging every bit of armour. It’s too thick, too cold—there are few places where he can truly feel Gimli’s flesh. Then he reaches Gimli’s midsection, and he dares slot his hands beneath Gimli’s tunic.

As Legolas’ fingers trace the hem of his trousers, Gimli grunts, “Well, aren’t you a frisky thing...”

“We may parish on this quest,” Legolas reminds him, more interested in licking the corner of his lips than truly scaring him. “It would be foolish to hold back any longer, when another night might never come...”

He slips one hand beneath the fabric, feeling Gimli’s hard, hairy abdomen, smoothing down between a mat of curls. His fingers wrap around the base of Gimli’s cock, and his pulse quickens, his breath caught in anticipation, but then he pauses. He glances downwards.

They’re both keeping their voices down. They haven’t gone _too_ far away; if troubles comes to the others, they’ll go rushing back. So Gimli’s quiet when he hisses, “What is it?”

Legolas carefully pulls Gimli’s cock free of his trousers. It weighs heavy in Legolas’ palm, incredibly hot to the touch, wildly thick around the middle—it’s not quite as long Legolas’, but it’s nearly double the girth, if not more. Legolas can barely reach his fingers around it. He breathes, awe-struck, “You are _enormous._”

His eyes lift, and he adds, “I had hoped to ride you, but this is much too big. It will never fit inside me.” 

Gimli’s face has gone nearly as red as his beard. He growls, “If you talk like that, this is going to be over rather quick.”

Legolas chuckles. But it’s a sad noise, because he really had hoped to push Gimli right down and climb onto him. Though Legolas has little personal experience, he’s heard that dwarves take much longer to prepare. Their bodies aren’t the soft, pliant things of elves, and Legolas would have to do it _right_—he would never want to rush and harm Gimli in the process. That leaves them few options. He doesn’t even think he could fit Gimli’s tip inside his mouth. For a few brief seconds, his mind runs through other possibilities—he’s lived through enough drunken woodland feasts to know a plethora of positions. 

He grabs onto the easiest one and pushes at Gimli’s shoulder, guiding Gimli down onto the leaf-strewn forest floor. Gimli drops onto the dirt and grunts, “I thought you said it wouldn’t work.”

Legolas sits back from Gimli and pushes down his own tights. He hears Gimli’s breath hitch as his cock springs free—long, lean and hairless, already hard and wanting—he’s wanted this too long. Then he lies back, spreads himself out amongst the fallen foliage and stray greenery, and bids Gimli towards him. Gimli takes the hint and crawls forward. He bends over Legolas on all fours, which makes it easy for Legolas to pull him down. Legolas has to reach between them to position Gimli properly—he draws Gimli’s mammoth cock between his thighs. 

Gimli instantly groans. Legolas shivers from the touch—how warm and tough it is; even the texture’s different. Legolas enjoys that. He enjoys every bit of Gimli’s handsome body. He squeezes tight around it and murmurs, “I am afraid this is the best I can offer you, my friend. I would hope you could make love to me much the same.”

Gimli opens and closes his mouth but doesn’t have to be told twice. He bucks suddenly forward, slamming his hard body into Legolas’ soft figure. It wracks a moan out of him, and he gasps, “_Yes_, just like that...”

“You are a jewel,” Gimli mutters, thrusting again, then again, hips working into a sharp, staccato rhythm that has Legolas squirming. “You are the greatest of treasures, worth more than all the gold in Erebor...”

Legolas would mirror the praise if he had any words. He doesn’t. Gimli is incredibly heavy atop him, but that’s part of the pleasure—the pressure of his weight and heat continually slamming down. There’s nothing smooth about it, nothing delicate or gentle, the way that Legolas has often had—few are willing to pull their prince’s hair. But Gimli cares nothing for his title and ruts against him with a feral passion that echoes the pounding want in Legolas’ chest. Even feeling the snaking veins on Gimli’s cock drag across his most sensitive area is enough to undo him. He makes no effort to touch his own cock, instead letting it lie between them, crushed down whenever Gimli grinds into him too deeply. Legolas lets his fingers twist in Gimli’s ragged hair and lets Gimli do it all. 

Gimli finishes first, and he ducks to bury his face in Legolas’ shoulder for it—Legolas can hear the wanton roar that rips through him. A warm liquid splatters Legolas’ thighs, which pleases him tremendously. It’s a delightful feeling. His sac tightens, his shaft twitching, but he isn’t quite ready for it to end. Gimli pumps himself out, then collapses.

He drops onto Legolas like a sack of stones. Legolas is already breathing too hard to make any protest. 

A scratchy kiss brushes his cheek. Gimli mutters, “You will be paid handsomely for that one, elf.”

Legolas smiles. He looks fondly up as Gimli climbs off of him. Then Gimli shuffles down his body, just straddling his legs. Legolas tilts his head, watching Gimli curiously. 

Gimli tells him, “I might be wide, but you’re too long to fit down my throat. Just the tip will have to do.”

Legolas opens his mouth, but so does Gimli, and then he dives down, suddenly swallowing around the head of Legolas’ cock. Legolas arches off the ground and cries out, waking both their friends and all the woods.


End file.
